Zombie Revolution

by K. Bartholomew

  "Mrs Rothwell, I would appreciate that very much." Suleman closed the door, thankful he'd gotten out of that one.

  Maybe his luck was about to change?

  Another knock stopped Suleman in his tracks.

  He flung the door open. "I told you I haven’t seen your…"

  …A man in a white coat stood before Suleman. "Who the fuck are you?"

  "Hello, Mr Akhtar. My name’s Tony Dankworth and I'm a Health Inspector from the Food Standards Agency. I've just dropped by to conduct a random inspection of your kitchen, if you wouldn't mind?" Dankworth flashed his ID badge attached from a chain around his neck.

  "Um, yeah, I would mind, it's just that, now’s not really a good time, I've got preparations to make for opening time." Suleman rubbed the back of his neck, this was the last thing he needed. Not that ordinarily he'd have a problem with an inspection, he always kept the premises as clean as possible, but with all the bad luck he'd been having recently, anything could happen.

  "Mr Akhtar, you do understand that I have the powers to shut you down and that my admittance to your kitchen area is not optional. I will be coming inside, or you will cease trading as of this instant." Dankworth’s facial expression never changed throughout all the time he spoke.

  "Well, Boss, looks like I don't have a choice. Come in." Suleman closed the door behind Dankworth and shot him a look that could have turned Medusa to stone. "You want a cup of tea, Boss? How about a free meal? The shirt off my back?”

  Dankworth sniffed. ”What's that smell, Mr Akhtar?"

  "What smell, Boss?"

  "Don't play games with me, Mr Akhtar. There’s a smell in this dining area and it's overpowering. Now what is it?"

  "Oh that smell? It's the extractor fan, Boss. It temporarily broke down."

  "Mr Akhtar, I shouldn't have to tell you that you can't run an Indian restaurant without a properly functioning extractor fan. Apart from the smell in here, you'll have your neighbours complaining to the local council." Dankworth scribbled some notes on his clip board.

  "Hey what you writing there, Boss?" Suleman asked, trying to steal a glimpse of the clip board.

  "Mr Akhtar, you’ll receive a full write up of my report once I've concluded the inspection. Now, if you wouldn't mind. Would you show me to the kitchen?"

  Suleman clenched his fists and slowly exhaled. ”Right this way, Boss.” They entered the kitchen and he gestured to Mandeep. "This is my waiter, Deep, Boss."

  "Yes, yes, alright. Now, before we begin, where’s the hand sanitiser?" Dankworth glanced about expectantly for it.

  "Sanitiser? Why do you need that, Boss?"

  "Mr Akhtar, if you're carrying out work within a kitchen environment, you need to disinfect your hands. You do know this?"

  "Yes, of course, Boss.”

  “Good. Then could you produce for me your sanitiser?" Dankworth said, shaking his head.

  “Um, can’t do that boss, ran out, this morning whilst cleaning. I was about to send Deep to get some."

  "Indeed, Mr Akhtar."

  "What can I tell you, Boss?" Suleman unconsciously folded his arms into the defensive posture.

  "Well, Mr Akhtar, it's lucky for you I carry my own with me." Dankworth delved into his leather satchel bag and pulled out a small hand sized sanitiser spray. He sprayed two squirts on each hand and rubbed them together.

  Mandeep had since backed away from the cats and now stood back to the wall. He was out of his depth here and knew he'd be in trouble if he opened his mouth, so he decided it would be best for everybody if he simply kept quiet for the duration of the inspection.

  Dankworth looked to Suleman and gestured toward the sink. "Well since you haven’t any sanitiser right now, you'll have to do the next best thing and scrub your hands in the sink. I’m afraid I need to watch you do it.”

  Suleman plodded to the sink and hesitated. "Why do I need to wash my hands, Boss? You're the one carrying out the inspection.”

  "Like I've just told you, Mr Akhtar, I need to witness your procedures and make sure you're not practicing anything that risks cross contamination."

  "Can't you just pretend, Boss? I washed them before you arrived."

  "Mr Akhtar, I will shut this place down, effective immediately if you do not comply with this simple request."

  "Alright, Boss. Keep your hair on." Suleman scowled at the sink, slowly gripped the tap and turned it. Nothing.

  "Mr Akhtar, why are your taps not working?"

  "It's just faulty plumbing, Boss. My cousin was supposed to come and fix it yesterday but he never showed up." Suleman heard the anxiety in his own voice.

  "So you have no working plumbing in your kitchen, Mr Akhtar." Dankworth wrote a long note on his clipboard. "Mr Akhtar, may I ask how you’re washing the dishes?"

  "It's not me, Boss. It's Deep who does the washing up."

  "Well then how does Deep do the washing up?" They both swivelled their heads to Mandeep, who stood forlornly by the wall.

  Pause. Pause. Pause. Mandeep tried to find the right words to say.

  "You must excuse my waiter, Boss, he's just a bit slow. He's not very articulate, but you should see how he cleans the dishes.” Suleman laughed nervously.

  "Ok, then Mr Akhtar, may I ask how you're supplying the table water for your patrons?"

  "That's an easy one, Boss. Deep just runs upstairs to fetch the water."

  "From which room?"

  “Toilet."

  Dankworth made another long note on his clipboard, took a handkerchief out from his pocket, blew his nose, returned the handkerchief and continued to write. When he finished writing he gave his hands another spray with the sanitiser and rubbed them together. "Good working practices, Mr Akhtar. You should get used to them.”

  "Yes, Boss. How much longer will this take, Boss?"

  "As long as it takes, Mr Akhtar.” Dankworth approached the fridge and opened the door. "Why is your fridge not working?"

  "What? I didn't know it wasn’t working, Boss. It must have stopped working just now, Boss."

  Dankworth plunged his hand within the fridge and removed items at random. "This sauce, whatever it is, has deteriorated beyond all salvation. This milk has curdled." He balked, before bringing out a tray of chicken breasts. "Mr Akhtar, this chicken has a thick layer of mold over it. Were you going to prepare this chicken for your customers?"

  Suleman shuffled backwards. ”No of course not Boss.”

  "Then why are you storing it in the fridge? Which happens not to be working.”

  Suleman looked again to Mandeep and so Dankworth followed his lead.

  Pause. Pause. Pause. Mandeep tried to find the right words to say, but couldn't.

  "Mr Akhtar, you’re the owner and proprietor of the Bindi restaurant, it is you who needs to answer my questions, not your waiter." Dankworth scribbled another long note on his clipboard. "I should not need to tell you that chicken is the one food that must be treated with the utmost of care."

  "Yes, Boss.”

  "You need to throw all this food out. It's contaminated!"

  "What? No Boss!" The contents of that fridge were worth a lot of money.

  "Oh yes you will, Mr Akhtar, or I will shut this place down indefinitely."

  Suleman felt the anger pulsing through him. Just who was this guy to come in here, without an appointment and start rooting through the place. "Is that everything, Boss?"

  "Not quite.” Dankworth walked to the other side of the kitchen, then double and finally did a triple take on what he saw. "Why are there three caged cats in your kitchen?"

  Suleman looked to Mandeep and once again Dankworth followed his lead.

  Mandeep hated every second of this interrogation and couldn't wait for it to be over. But he knew the answer to this question, so now was the time to step in and give Sully a hand with this difficult predicament. "It's for the rats.”

  "Rats? What rats?"

  "We let the cats out after we close to keep the rats away during the night." Mande
ep looked to Suleman for confirmation that he'd done good. However the expression on Suleman's face confirmed the contrary.

  "Why am I not even surprised by this?" Dankworth made another long note. "If you have rat problems, then you call in pest control. You do not allow cats to roam your restaurant at will during the night."

  "I called my cousin in to take care of the rats, but…"

  Dankworth cut him off with his hand. “…But he never showed up! I know, Mr Akhtar."

  Suleman did not like the tone of this health inspector and considered asking him to leave. But that would only get him shut down and he really needed the Bindi, it was his life. He really had wanted to carry out repairs and give the place a thorough deep clean, even to call in the pest control people, alas he had been down on his luck, his ship had never come in.

  Dankworth rummaged through his satchel bag and brought out another spray, this one had a picture of a skull and crossbones on it. He then proceeded to spray the primary working surface. "Just as I expected." He pointed to the counter top, which glowed all manner of colours. "Do you see this?"

  "See what, Boss?" Suleman squinted toward the counter, pretending not to see the colours.

  "That yellow is Salmonella, the blue is Staphylococcus and the pink, that pink right there that’s spread all throughout this work surface is E-Coli. You have E-Coli over your working areas, Mr Akhtar and I would hazard a guess you’ve been passing on E-Coli to your patrons, Mr Akhtar."

  Suleman considered looking to Mandeep for answers, but then decided against it. "My cousin, he…"

  “…I don't want to hear it, Mr Akhtar. Anybody who eats food prepared from that work surface will be in very serious trouble indeed." Dankworth pointed toward the door at the rear. "Take me to your main storage area please."

  "Where?"

  Dankworth gave a long audible sigh. "To your main storage area please.”

  This time Suleman did look to Mandeep, who in turn averted his eyes to the floor.

  "Right this way, Boss.” Suleman opened the rear door and led Dankworth outside.

  The three of them walked by a quartet of wheelie bins, overflowing with rubbish. Pigeons were feeding from food particles strewn about the narrow corridor and Dankworth was surprised they didn't fly away when he trod by them. The buildings either side were high, casting the passageway in darkness, however there was illumination at the end, where the storage shed could be seen.

  The three of them stood by the shed door and exchanged looks.

  "Well?" Dankworth asked, tapping his foot.

  "Well, what?"

  "What do you think, Mr Akhtar? I require access.”

  "What? You just said you wanted me to take you here. You never said you wanted to go inside."

  "How could you be so stupid, Mr Akhtar? Of course I require access. Now will you open up please!" In all his time as a health inspector, he couldn't remember an occasion when he’d come across a more disgusting and badly run establishment.

  "I don't have a key."

  "Then how do you get your supplies? Your rice, your raw ingredients, your containers and all the rest?"

  "I meant I lost the key. I was searching for it when you turned up here, so I can't get in until I find it."

  "Well that just about sums everything up doesn’t it. Let’s go back inside, I'll finish my report and I can be on my way."

  A moaning sound came from inside the shed. This then set off a higher pitched hacking sound.

  "What was that?" Dankworth asked, sharply turning around.

  "What was what?"

  "Don't be silly with me, I just heard noises from inside your shed. There’s somebody in there."

  "Oh, that was just Deep. Deep stop making silly noises!" He patted Mandeep on the shoulder and laughed.

  "Remind me never to bring my family to this restaurant, Mr Akhtar.” Dankworth made his way back inside.

  Suleman and Mandeep breathed easier for the first time in a while. That really had been a close call and Dankworth seemed satisfied, even though he never saw inside the shed.

  They returned to the kitchen, Dankworth set his clipboard on a ledge and put the finishing touches to his report. He then looked to Suleman. "Right this way please, Mr Akhtar." He led Suleman toward the front door in the dining area. "I've compiled a list of recommendations which you need to act on urgently." He handed a carbon copy of the form to Suleman. "This also needs to be placed on your front window." He took out a cellophane notice from his satchel bag.

  "What does it say?" Suleman asked.

  "It says you're closed for business until further notice!"

  "What? No! Fuck you, Boss!" Suleman grabbed the notice, screwed it into a ball and threw it on the floor.

  "Oh, what did you do that for? I'll have to print another one off now."

  "No, no, you can't shut me down, Boss." Suleman stomped back to the kitchen and Dankworth followed him in there.

  "Mr Akhtar, I am shutting this place down, effective immediately. Quite honestly, this is the worst establishment I've seen in my entire career. It's a wonder nobody has died.”

  "No, no, Boss! You can't shut me down, I've got twelve mouths to feed.”

  "Look, Mr Akhtar, you wouldn't want anybody in your family having a meal in a place like this. This restaurant is a public health risk and it's for the safety of everybody that I shut it down. The whole place is filthy!"

  Suleman grabbed a mop and began feverishly slathering the floor with water from a nearby bucket. "Look, look, Boss. Look, Boss! I'm cleaning up, I'm cleaning! Look, Boss! I'm cleaning, Boss! Look!"

  "Oh, I don't care about that. The whole place needs tearing down. The roof contains lead and asbestos too, which probably explains the intermittent signal around here."

  "No, please, Boss! Just give me another chance, please."

  From the other side of the kitchen, the cats hissed and darted about within their confined cage.

  "Mr Akhtar, you will shut this place down now or I shall return with a court order and the police. Goodbye, Mr Akhtar.” Dankworth stomped in the direction of the exit.

  Suleman grabbed a frying pan and cracked it against Dankworth’s skull. Dankworth fell to the ground, unconscious.

  "Bastard! You bastard!" Suleman had to force himself to cease the continuation of laying in to him.

  Mandeep placed a hand on Suleman's shoulder. "I think we should call the authorities now, perhaps?"

  Suleman panted, his ponytail had come all unkempt, some strands even straggled down his forehead. "Get the rope, Deep.”

  "I'm hearing that a lot lately."

  Four

  Tony Dankworth had never really wanted to be a health inspector. He ended up in that line of work because the money was reasonable and the local council were recruiting fresh from university. He had gone along to the recruitment day and sat in a large auditorium with other prospectful health inspectors. They told him he would get his own company car and twenty full paid days of leave per year. He was slowly coming round to the idea of being a health inspector. What had really won him over though was the thought of having power. He was quite a short man whom nobody ever took too seriously. Though he knew people would take him seriously if he had the power to shut their businesses and life’s work down in an instant. Dankworth had shut many businesses down in his time and although he knew he was affecting livelihoods, he still got quite a kick out of it.

  As a child, Dankworth had very different dreams. His father once took him to the circus. He had sat and watched with amazement, the trapeze artists. They were awe inspiring. They would swing upside down from their long ropes and link arms with the other trapeze artists who were also swinging. The timing had to be perfect for the stunt to work otherwise it would mean a long drop down and instant death. Dankworth had admired them so much that he had always wanted to be a trapeze artist himself.

  Finally, his dreams had come true. He was a trapeze artist! He was dangling and swinging by his feet. He was in his element. The crowd
was huge and they all watched him as he prepared to perform his death defying stunt. He swung from side to side by his legs on his long rope. He saw his fellow trapeze artists at either side, waiting to catch him. He swung from left to right and from right to left, several times while his fellow acrobats reached out with outstretched arms in anticipation.

  Dankworth’s head hurt. It was excruciating. Had he mistimed his jump and hit his head on the floor? He opened his eyes. He was still upside down. What the hell was going on? Was he still on his trapeze?

  He couldn't move. Wow, his head hurt. What was that growling noise? Ah sanctuary, he could see his fellow trapeze artists. Everybody was upside down. This must be training. They were reaching out to catch him, both of them. How strange - That was one fat trapeze artist. He wouldn't like to be the guy to catch him. Why was the other guy wearing a suit to training? Why did he have a fork sticking out from his neck? Why did both these trapeze artists have a green tint to their complexion? Why were they both making silly noises?

  "Excuse me? Why aren’t you dressed in the proper training gear?" He waited but no response was forthcoming. "You will answer me or I'll shut this circus down!"

  He didn't want to train anymore, he'd had enough. He just needed to get down from this damn rope. "Get me down from here!" He didn't think the trapeze artists looked human. "Who are you two? Where’s the circus master?" He tried to reach his rope, but couldn't, the strain sent shooting pains through his head.

  Then he realised he wasn’t on a trapeze, his feet were tied, he couldn't move them. He glared at the other trapeze artists. They were also tied. “What’s going on here? Who are you two? Why are you making silly noises?" He was only a short distance from them both. Their arms were permanently outstretched and he saw they were both trying to reach him. Why would they do that? How long had they been tied up here? Where were they? Were they even alive? Was he? Why had the fat one chewed the flesh from his arm, revealing nothing but bone to the elbow?

  Dankworth screamed, but stopped, the pain too excruciating.

  Then he felt the warm trickle of urine flow up his stomach, over his chest, along his neck and off his face.